Sunday, April 23, 2006

Thank you

Thank you feels too feeble a phrase to convey my gratitude for the response to the post below. The warmth and generosity of the feedback has been overwhelming and each and every individual comment is cherished, as is its author. I'm very lucky with my blog friends.

Of course the problem my father and I had was not so much that there were problems - all families have those - but rather the impossibility of talking about them, of real communication. Tamar's referral to her 18 January 2005 archived post, where she describes writing a moving letter to her own father after his death for this reason, is extremely helpful.

The experience of writing this post and receiving the replies reminds me above all that words coming from the heart need to be spoken and/or written. That's what they're for. As long as they stay bottled up, unexpressed, unformed, just going around in the mind, they cannot do their work. They cannot create connections or inform us that we are part of a greater whole.

And as Sky says in her beautiful comment:It is in this state of being human that you both made choices which failed to bring you the intimacy you both wanted. ...... Perhaps the lesson you have taken away from your connection and love with your father - the expensive cost of not fully risking - will be the grandest gift of all......

Indeed. Thank you all - through your words you have helped turn this particular anniversary into one of hope for the future amidst the memories. I am so grateful.

When you give away what is in your heart then what you get back is what in the hearts of all who read or hear your words. It is the way of universe. Your words have opened many a heart and it we who thank you.

Zhoen: thank you ... and your experience of course illustrates why risk is so frightening and why it takes so much courage. No guarantees of a happy outcome. That's why I hung back. I wonder, though, if not knowing is any better? I don't know ..

I can only speak from my own experience, Mary, but I do believe not knowing (by not taking the risk) is worse. Because, while we may be disappointed (even heartbroken) after taking a risk, from that experience we still have hope of healing and moving on to find new sources of joy. We get to move past it in some sense, eventually. But fear looms large, possibly larger than reality, and stays with us. If nothing is done, nothing moves us past the fear. Thank you so much for reminding me of this!

You have a genius for suiting the photo to the blog, you know. And my vote is...that it's always better to risk - and know. But we don't always. We all don't walk through some blue door or other. It was a wonderful entry. And the comments were so good. Your blog friends are lucky too.